You and I

The following is an original song that I wrote for one of my my very good friends who will be getting married later this summer.  When someone asks you to write a song for their wedding it is quite possibly the most daunting thing in the world.  I've never been in love like that, hell I don't know if I've been in love at all when I really think about it, so how in the world am I supposed to write about it?  So I decided to have them each write a list about all the the little things they love about each other and found that what they wrote was strikingly similar.  Those two simple lists abstractly evolved (how in the world do you put "the time she puked on the paddle boat" into a song?) into this song.

The song is sort of a work in progress, but the basic form is all there.  I'm working on adding some overlapping guitar parts and harmony, as well as a cello part with the help of my sister.  I'm pretty happy with how it's turned out so far and hope you enjoy it!

And please excuse the tinish (yay new word!) quality of the recording.  It's originally recorded as a video on on my MacBook, but I gotta work with what I got!

Running From Camera

I chanced upon an incredibly legitimate (that's right, so good that 'legit' wasn't even enough to handle this shit) blog today. It's called Running From Camera and that's it, just running and cameras. The man behind this ingenious blog does nothing more than puts his camera self-timer on for 2 seconds and then turns and attempts to get his ass as far from the camera as he can.I also enjoy the fact that my faceless, running friend does all his running in the Netherlands. Besides the fact that the Dutch are crazy fun, I am in fact Dutch - I have the passport and wooden shoes to prove it - so I like this blog all the more. You can always count the Dutch to do something so random that it is purely amazing (if you don't believe me you should meet my dad and then proceed to make him say words like 'marijuana' and 'vodka').

Maybe I'll try this sometime...in front of the vuck...

What The...?!

Behold the most amazing piece of automotive beauty that has even been created by the hands of American autoworkers. It is not van, not truck, but rather some amazing combination of the two that I had once only dreamed of. Driving past this vehicle everyday I can't help but be inspired by its white trash wonder. I imagine its driver to sport a mullet of the most epic proportions because a man that's truly business up front and party in the rear would probably revel in the ability to bring this motto - nay lifestyle - to his daily driver.

Behold that which before could be captured by no name, for it is two things, not one. It is van, it is truck, it is...

THE VUCK

No vehicle has ever captured the imagination of a household as the vuck has captured the awe and reverence of me and my roommates. To the man, woman, or amazing otherworldly being that designed this vehicle, we thank you. Not only have you created a deep love for the vuck, but inspired the most epic house Christmas card every produced at a Wal-Mart photodesk. That's right, the vuck was in our Christmas card and now it's in my blog. The world is good.

A First Date: The Morning After

It’s the morning after my date with Little Bro and I can safely say that this relationship will be going nowhere but the “friend zone.” I can also safely say that the fact that there was no romantic chemistry is probably the best thing in this particular dating scenario. As my dear blogging friend, K.H., put it in a helpful middle of date tweet to my phone, “Go, have fun, don’t get too attached, and refuse any future dates. This could be serious career suicide!”

Reading that tweet as I snuck away to the bathroom, I realized K.H. was right. Well it wasn’t so much that I realized she was right as I realized that she had perfectly captured what I already knew in 140 characters or less. After all this wasn’t some guy I’d just randomly met or a mutual friend that came highly recommended, this was my boss’s little brother and even if he was the one and only Prince Charming nothing could change that.

Honestly though, I think more than anything the idea of going on an actual date was the exciting part of the whole thing. Maybe that sounds shallow, but I haven’t been asked on many dates and as such a girl is going to get a little excited when one shows up on her schedule. The thing is, Missoula is a college town, it’s a hookup town, it’s a grinding drunk, at the nastiest bar ever at 2:00 a.m. town – it is certainly not a dating town. That can be hard for a girl that isn’t the hookup, grinding type. So I got excited, I saw possibility and I tried to forget the obvious.

So I enjoyed the date. I enjoyed my delicious grilled chicken with green chilies. I enjoyed the deck of a nice restaurant on a warm summer night. The conversation was fairly enjoyable, but often lulled to awkward pauses and silences that made it readily apparent that there was no spark. And really, that lack of spark was for the best.

And that’s it; Little Bro took me on one and only one date. While he’s a nice guy, he just wasn’t for me on many levels. I mean yes he is my boss’s sibling, but more importantly he just didn’t have that something that gives me butterflies. I’m sure Little Bro and I will remain friends, but as far as romance the road ends here and I have to say I’m happy about that. My job is safe, my love life is boring, and the world keeps turning. I couldn’t be happier.

A First Date

I’ve been asked on my first real date since the breakup with my not-so-long-distance boyfriend.  The guy is really nice, fun, and though not my usual type, pretty darn cute – we’ll be calling him Little Bro.  Why would I call any guy that I am considering dating Little Bro?  Rest assured, I promise that choice of name will make more than perfect sense by the end of this post, so be patient darn you!

Little Bro and I met at Hooters.  Now to make it perfectly clear, I was not on shift when I met Little Bro and he had never seen me working there before – he was oblivious to my Hooters Girl status.  I was sitting at the bar, waiting for my best friend Ariel (not her real name obviously) to be done with work, enjoying a most delicious plate of boneless wings, hot, extra wet, when I met Little Bro.  Sitting just one stool down, Little Bro was also enjoying some boneless wings in his sauce of choice, Daytona. 

And that’s how it all began, over boneless wings and Big Daddy beers.  We talked effortlessly about anything and everything.  He made me laugh and he made me smile.  Little Bro had things I haven’t found in a guy in awhile – most notably a personality.  Then it happened, up walks my manager.  Prepared for her to tell me I couldn’t sit at the bar and to kindly move my ass, I had already grabbed my Big Daddy in anticipation, but that didn’t happen.

“How’s my little bro,” she said throwing her arms around my newly acquainted friend.

“Seriously, you know I hate that.  Do you really have to call me that?!” he answered back.

OMG, this guy was my managers little brother.  This just wasn’t some guy; this some guy was closely related to one of my bosses.  I stared at them as they talked and realized that this could become very interesting, very fast.  And now that Little Bro has asked me out to one of the nicer restaurants in town it has certainly become even more interesting.

“You better not break his heart or piss him off or anything.  I mean he’s our managers little brother, you gotta watch yourself,” Ariel offered.  Thanks for the words of wisdom, dear friend.

But I know she’s right.  What if it does get more complicated?  What if the shit hits the metaphorical fan?  I’m not a pessimistic person, but I could easily end up in one hell of a predicament.   So what’s a girl to do?  A girl goes on a damn date that’s what she does, but she treads lightly.  So Little Bro and I are hitting the town, he'll be here in half an hour.  Wish me luck and stay tuned.

The Strangest Tip Ever

Yesterday seemed unoriginal, another depressingly slow Monday night at Hooters. When nights are slow and Hooters Girls have ample time it is not uncommon to see girls sitting and conversing with their guests for long periods of time. Really it presents an interesting paradox: you’re making less money and thus unhappy yet you’re talking and enjoying your time with your guests more, thus happy. Luckily, I received what is easily my most creative tip in my Hooters history, which easily made my night.

Mid-shift, a group of 20something guys pull up stools at one of my high-tops. Normal enough, the guys sport athletic shorts, flip flops, and of course the young American male staple the backwards, well worn baseball cap. After ordering beers and plenty of hot wings, I sat down with the guys and talked for a while – nothing spectacular, just normal conversation.

The meal came to an end and I dropped off their ticket as they all threw cash down on the center of the table. I couldn’t help but notice as they gathered their cash that I was looking at a pretty hefty tip. Score!

Filing out one by one as I hold open the door, the last guy grabs my arm, “Just so you know I left something extra for you in that napkin,” he says gesturing toward the table.

“Thanks! I’ll totally check it out,” I hear myself saying as I’m simultaneously thinking, ugh, another number I’m sure. I’ll call you back never.

Busing the table I’ve pretty much forgotten about the number I expected to find tucked into the folds of a bevnap. I grab my cash and start organizing it neatly by denomination when I see the napkin. As I pick it up I realize that it’s not just a number, but there is actually something in the napkin. Unfolding it, a familiar scent wafts gently and before I even see what it is I know it’s weed. Now I have never smoked weed before (it’s not that I’m against it it’s just that I’ve never really cared to try it) but living in a liberal college town populated with hippies and spoiled rich kids pretending to be hippies I have certainly seen my share of the stuff. I can smell weed a mile away and I certainly know a nug when I see one.

I was rather surprised and looking at the drug there on the napkin I remember thinking that it was rather presumptuous. I mean what if I was one of those goody-goody tattletale types or a sexy cop involved in an undercover investigation (stretching it, I know) and turned his ass in? Of course I’m not like that, I’m just a Hooters Girl and I could care less if John Doe likes to toke now and again so I just got a good laugh out of the whole thing. If I knew more about weed I could have calculated it’s worth into my tip, but instead I just threw it away because even if I did smoke I certainly wouldn’t smoke some random, possibly PCP laced, stuff left on my table – I’d smoke the good shit.

Thank you cliché college boys for more than making my night. I won’t be lighting up anytime soon but I will smile knowing you left me the best tip ever.

From Montana with Love

Today was spent on Flathead.  The largest freshwater lake west of the Mississippi, Flathead Lake is big enough to produce its own weather patterns as well as rumors of a mythological lake monster.  Home to locals and movie stars, vineyards and cherry orchards, the lake comes alive as the weather warms.  Boats enter the water at countless docks and marinas dotting the lake's 160 mile shoreline, but over the vast expanses of water they rarely cross wakes; friendly waves are simply exchanged over great distances as is the boaters' code.

Bordering the east side of the lake are the Mission Mountains.  Named for the missionaries who who sought to bring the Christian faith to Montana's native populations, the Missions provide  a backdrop for historic mission churches and teepees put up to attract tourists alike.  Abruptly emerging from the lake, the jagged peaks still capped in snow provide a sharp contrast to the smooth, glassy surface of the lake.Today Flathead was notably calm.  Usually, the water moves swiftly in choppy waves making one feel as if they are sailing the ocean rather than cruising a mountain lake.  Our boat cut through the water effortlessly, allowing us to travel over thirty miles from one side of the lake to other while taking time to explore coves and bays housing hidden mansions amongst towering evergreens.  The calm of the water was accompanied by the frigid temperature of a lake feed by mountain snowmelt early in season.  Of course being Montanans through and through, we couldn't resist the allure of the water on a warm day and we swam and wakeboarded in short spurts, quickly returning to the safety of the boat and warm, fuzzy towels.

As the evening drew over Flathead we returned to dock tired and varied shades of red.  The ride home was quite as we watched mountains, fields, and road construction through tinted windows as we drove south.  Occasionally we laugh about something said, but mostly we think about next weekend and the new adventures Flathead will hold.  Perhaps we will journey to see the namesake of Wild Horse Island or an attempt to figure out which house belongs to Howie Long or Oprah.  Perhaps we'll simply sail along and enjoy the beauty that is a Montana summer, from Montana with love.

Still Running for a Cause

As I posted earlier, I will be running a half marathon later this summer and have decided to run for a cause. Basically, I decided that if I had something I was actually running for I'd have better luck sticking with my training because, while I have always been a runner, I am in no way the "lets run 13 miles all at once" sort of runner. In fact for being a rather hardcore track athlete I am a rather reluctant runner; luckily track has all sort of short races and events that involve jumping. Sorry, getting off topic here.

Anyway, I am running for Youth Homes, a nonprofit aimed to help at-risk youth within the state of Montana by providing them with "placement, structure, counseling, recreation, culture and access to community resources. Children come to us with emotional, social, protection, behavioral and chemical dependency issues. They are referred by Youth Courts, Child Protection, Mental Health Case Management, Tribal Social Services and families."
Last year the Run 4 Kids team raised $41,000 for Montana youth and this year they are hoping to far surpass that mark in an attempt to raise over $70,000. My personal goal is to raise $1,000 for this worthy cause. So far I have pretty much sucked at this. I have one donation for $250 and it's from my parents (thanks Mom and Dad!). It's not that I haven't been trying, it's that my friends are cheap - and they will all be the first to admit it. So here I am, appealing to my readers to donate if they are able.

If you would like to donate and help me reach my goal you may do so at www.firstgiving.com/sauce. The site is totally secure with all donations going directly to Youth Homes. You may donate anonymously and remember that every little bit helps!